To Neverland
by Alenor Peredhel
Summary: Carlisle chose to be a doctor to help people, and to keep them from death's door. But what can he do when a girl is determined to stay on its threshold? Can she make him see that maybe death isn't the end?


Disclaimer: I do not own Stephenie Meyer's work.

Briefly: I just want to say that this story was inspired by the movies "_Finding Neverland"_ and "_Peter Pan"_. Yes, I know, a little odd, but give it a chance; this is posted for your enjoyment. Any spelling or grammatical errors are my fault, but forgive me; I couldn't see the computer screen through my tears. (HAPPY TEARS!!) And I guess I'm just hoping that this story will give you all a little bit of faith and hope. To Neverland then?...

To Neverland

_Tap, tap, tap..._it was the sound of Carlisle's pen as he tapped it against his desk. He was staring at a chart before him, open on the doctor's lounge table. Between his teeth he chewed irritably at the pen lid, careful not to completely skewer in one careless bite. The words before his eyes swam, clumping together and forming into misshapen lumps, had he been human, he would have assumed he was overtired.

"Carlisle?"

He hadn't heard the door open, another testimony to his scattered thoughts. His eyes traveled upward and fastened on Jeremy. "Heading out?" he asked.

The man nodded, hanging up his coat and pulling out his rain jacket. "All done. You on call tonight?"

Carlisle nodded, tapping his pen a bit more fervently. He pitched the pen lid into the garbage, not trusting anyone to touch it. "I figured I would come in early, it is a bit noisy at home."

"Can't imagine," Jeremy grinned. He leaned on the back of the couch, bracing himself with his hands so he wouldn't pitch forward. His eyes were worried though his tone was one of a man happy to be done work, and looking forward to spending the night with his kids. "How you manage that many teenagers I don't know, Lord knows how _I _will."

Carlisle chuckled, and closed the chart. "I don't know how I manage either," he said. His hands folded, and he sighed. "But I love them all."

"If you forgive me," Jeremy said. He shifted so he was sitting on the arm of the couch. "You've seem distracted...what is it?"

"My wife kicked me out of the house," Carlisle admitted wryly. He forced a smile. "It's the girl; I can't stop..." he shook his head. "It just...hurts." He had thought he had seen it all, all the pain, all the grief, and he thought he had gotten past it, that he wouldn't be touched by it anymore.

"There's always that one that gets us," Jeremy said softly.

Carlisle nodded, he kept his eyes down. The pain lanced through him, and his thoughts drifted. She was the same age as Edward, or at least the same in human years. He could picture her now, even with his eyes open. The vibrancy in her eyes, her zest for life that made her refuse all medications and forge ahead. Even when the pain brought her to her knees, she smiled through it, and didn't give in.

In all his years, Carlisle had never had a case like this. Hadn't contemplated death before, or what it brought, had never doubted his theories on the soul. But here, it seemed as if none of that mattered, as if she had been brought into his life to shatter all he believed. Never had the touch of death seemed to overshadow him like it did now, how cruel was life to take a stroke at a girl who didn't deserve it.

He had been desperate enough to save her that he had told her his secret, had told her what he could do. He hadn't talked to her since, hadn't told anyone what he had said. He regretted telling her almost instantly afterward, but she had smiled, and said that she would think about it. She had taken it almost as well as Bella.

"Carlisle!"

It was the second time he had gotten startled that evening. His eyes shot up and found Jeremy. "I guess its true," he murmured. "There's one that always gets to you." He held out his hands. "One that makes us doubt ourselves, makes us wonder _why_ we even bother when death is just going to get us anyway."

Jeremy's face was saddened. "Don't doubt yourself Carlisle, you're the best doctor we have here. It's her choice; there isn't anything we can do."

There was something in Jeremy's tone that alerted me. A hidden vibrancy that begged of a story not told. I stiffened, my hands clenching. "Jeremy..."

Jeremy sighed, as if seeing there was no point. "Carlisle, she's in emerg. right now. She fell down a set of stairs; she's fine, just a few bruises..."

He didn't get any farther, I was out of the room at the fastest speed I dared allowed my colleague to see.

I picked at the thin blanket between my fingers. I was glad I had convinced my parents to take a vacation. They had needed it; they didn't need to see me like this. I knew I was dying, and I knew that I was going fast. I knew because of the pain, and I knew because I refused to take medicine, to help prolong the inevitable. I had refused it. I didn't want medicine; I didn't want to be held back. I was going to die, and I had accepted that.

The only reason I was still awake, and watching the shadows of the hallways, was that I knew Carlisle, or Dr. Cullen as I was supposed to call him, was there somewhere. When he heard what had happened he would come, I knew.

My mind drifted back to our conversation, the day where in desperation he had told me about his family and what they really were. Vampires. Though I had been surprised and to say the least shocked, I could not find myself doubting or afraid. He had offered me a way to end the pain, and to go on, to live forever.

The sounds of feet brushing against the linoleum floor reached my ears. I raised my head as Carlisle stopped at the edge of the emergency section. I was the only one in tonight, it must have been slow. He seemed hesitant when he saw me, his face drawing closed, and pain flashed across his face.

I reached forward, wincing a little as my bruised muscles protested. "I knew you'd hear I was in," I said softly. I patted the bed. "Sit down for a bit."

Carlisle moved stiffly, as if he was being dragged unwillingly across the room. He sat though, barely bending the bed under his weight.

I looked him in the eyes, clasping my hands together. "I thought a lot about you...may I call you Carlisle?"

He nodded, his head tilting to the side and then raising. His eyes never left mine.

"You offered me something, last week," I said. I saw his pain. "I've had a lot of time to think on it...since then."

"It was a lot to put on you," Carlisle interjected. "What with you in a delicate condition."

I shook my head vehemently. "No. Carlisle I don't like to see what you're doing. You say you cannot die, but I see death haunting you. It makes me feel as if I am the one who has years uncounted and your days are limited."

Carlisle said nothing but his face gave it away.

Sighing I reached out, clasping his hands in mine. "I can't do it," I told him. "While it is tempting, to live forever, I would miss all those 'one last time' things."

Carlisle took a huge breath, his eyes fluttering closed as he struggled to compose himself. When they opened, they were still haunted, but his lips were smiling. "What sort of things do you want to do Katie?"

A wistful smile touched my face. "I want to die under the stars, not here, stuck in this building. I want to die loving life, and just laughing. I don't want to go to Disneyworld, I don't want to bungee jump, I don't want to go to Paris, I want to stay here. This is where my heart is, in these trees and under _these _stars. What I want to do, is dance in the rain, get soaking wet until I have a cold, I want to fall down stairs and be _alive_."

If he had been able to cry, Carlisle would have. I knew I had touched him, my resistance to how the world should work. I held his hands carefully, still looking him in the eyes. "I'm not afraid."

"I do not see how the world can be this way," he said softly, almost too softly for me to hear. "How can it hurt you, the one who has so much love for life and yet those who spoil this gift it does not touch?"

"I cannot say how the world works, or why such things happen. You just have to have a little faith sometimes," I smiled. "To die would be an awfully big adventure."

A smile tugged on Carlisle's lips. "You sound like you are quoting Peter Pan."

"I have recently had a rather intriguing obsession with it," I admitted. I closed my eyes, smiling. "Good and Bad...they're always there Carlisle. Some things we can understand and some we don't. I don't know why I was chosen to die, and why others are chosen to live. Not even you can understand that...but there is one thing I _do_ know."

His eyes lifted, picking up that I was waiting for him to tell me to continue. Waiting for him to show his interest "What do you know Katie?"

"I know I'm going to Neverland."

My answer surprised Carlisle. His eyes widened, and a laugh escaped his lips. It was a heavy laugh, as if the world was weighing on him, and he didn't know how to relieve the burden. "And what will you do in Neverland Katie?"

"I will watch over you and your family." I smiled. I was ashamed to see I was crying. I patted his hand. "And if I so much as see you mope about this I will set Captain Hook on you."

Tears were actually standing in Carlisle's eyes, as if the sheer emotional realization of what I was saying forced up the dredges of a human life forgotten. He seemed shocked at the liquid on his face, for he reached up and he touched it, and then stared, like a child who has seen snow for the first time.

I laughed; it was watery, and odd-sounding beneath my own tears. He no longer doubted himself, or my pain, or what would happen to me. He knew I was going to Neverland, and in Neverland, I would be finally free.

"Carlisle, there is one other thing."

"Yes?"

"You don't need to die to go to Neverland," I said. "I'm already there. Can't you hear the music and laughter? The joy and the freedom?"

"Yes." Carlisle nodded. "I can hear it. And the sound of the frogs and the tinkle of the fairies wings. And the beat of Indians drums, and the songs of the mermaids. Yes, yes I can hear it."

"Then you must tell your son," I said, leaning forward earnestly. "That his soul is not lost, that there is still a Neverland for him."

"My son?" Carlisle asked. He leaned back from me, confused.

"Edward," I pressed. "You must tell him. You _must_, that the soul is no real thing, and it is not something that can be lost or misplaced. It is who you are, how you live, your hopes, your dreams, your fears, your loves. It your personality, the very thing you are, and that part of you can never be lost..." I paused, taking a breath. "I thought I lost mine once, I thought because I was sick that that was it, and there was nothing left for me. But Peter found me and Tinkerbell too. Tell him, if he opens his hear and _believes_ he will find his soul."

There was no stopping them. The tears poured down Carlisle's face. He drew me into his arms. "I will tell him Katie. I will tell him."

I wrapped my arms around Carlisle. "Thank you," I whispered. Then in a soft voice, one that I knew only Carlisle would hear, I said, "I am ready to go to Neverland now. Can you take me to the stars; can you help me dance under the rain?"

Carlisle said nothing, but he pulled back the blankets, and swung my wasted form into his arms.

He said nothing, but as I lay in his arms, watching as the door to the outside come closer, I knew, he had found what he had been missing.


End file.
